fir: an imaginary portrait
i’ve always loved this clump of trees. i want to know how it got there. when did what farmer decide to leave an island in the corn. and better yet, who goes there. i want to trespass the fields and find leftover forts made of milk boxes from before they homogenized. or maybe a bum has set up camp and discovered uses for sap we’ve never imagined. not a homeless person, but a tramp who lives to catch the next train. and maybe, when the moon is full, the wolves they say don’t live here stop by and burn a fire to warm their paws and pay homage to relatives who moved north for the health insurance. but i’ve digressed. today was our first snow.
fir: an imaginary portrait
i’ve always loved this clump of trees. i want to know how it got there. when did what farmer decide to leave an island in the corn. and better yet, who goes there. i want to trespass the fields and find leftover forts made of milk boxes from before they homogenized. or maybe a bum has set up camp and discovered uses for sap we’ve never imagined. not a homeless person, but a tramp who lives to catch the next train. and maybe, when the moon is full, the wolves they say don’t live here stop by and burn a fire to warm their paws and pay homage to relatives who moved north for the health insurance. but i’ve digressed. today was our first snow.